


Letters to Clarke

by ellie_anne



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, and i posted it on tumblr but i'm putting it here now, i think i'm not sure, i wrote this at the beginning of season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:07:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8851351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellie_anne/pseuds/ellie_anne
Summary: Clarke finally comes back to Camp Jaha and finds that she has some mail





	

She was back. And he was gone. Not for long, her mother had told her before they started yelling at each other. He was on a hunting trip with Kane and Octavia and few members of the guard.

 

When Clarke arrived back at camp last night it had been late into the night so not many people had been out. She’d seen Monty before she’d seen her mother and she asked about Bellamy, he’d told her that ever since she left he’d been too busy to have much of a conversation with. She felt her stomach turn at that, she hated that he was pushing himself like that but she’d expected it. Bellamy would do anything he could to help, to work, to do what he thought was right. Monty had pointed her in the direction of her mother, seeing in her face that now wasn’t time for happy reunions.

 

She’d told her mother that she’d gone to the Capital, after Lexa, to try and keep any shred of peace she could get. It was shaky and would need constant reassurance, but it was an alliance built on respect. Clarke and Lexa’s respect for each other and the Grounder’s respect for their commander. They’d agreed that since all their people were safe, and Mount Weather was no longer a threat, that they shouldn’t make another one by putting everyone through war. Abby had been quiet, listening to Clarke patiently with glassy eyes as she held back tears. When she finished she’d pulled her daughter into a tight hug, one she wished lasted even longer than the six months Clarke had been gone. Abby had insisted Clarke get some rest, it was late and she was tired, but three hours later when the sun was up so was she. 

 

It was later into the morning now and Clarke was walking through camp, her eyes flickering around rapidly to take everything in. There had been a lot of progress since she’d been gone and Camp Jaha was starting to remind her of the dropship. A wall centered around the thing their people came down in, tents - though much more sophisticated than the 100’s had been - all around the edge, and people going about doing their work.

 

That’s when she first heard her name. “Clarke!” A girl’s voice instantly called out, and Clarke recognized it immediately. She whipped around to see Raven coming for her, walking with nothing but a cane now, a bright smile on her face and tears falling down her cheeks. Her name began to echo then, some in confusion and others in joy. She was surrounded in seconds, arms coming around her again and again, so fast it was hard to tell who she was hugging anymore. She clung to them all, because she loves them, her delinquents and that was why she did what she did at Mount Weather. Because from the moment they stepped on the ground she has loved them and protected them, and she’d do it all over again. 

 

She’s not surprised when she starts crying, and it triggers several others to do the same. Jasper, Monty, and Raven are the closest, and even though she knows they won’t be there she looks for Octavia and Bellamy. Raven’s about to comment when Clarke tells her she already knows. 

 

They’re dispersed, and Clarke decides to follow Jasper around camp for the day. She tried Raven, but she was working with Wick and when she wasn’t too distracted to say anything at all her and Wick were making eyes and flirty comments. Clarke had excused herself after a few minutes and walked out just as she found Jasper.

 

He was delivering laundry to people’s tents, and happy to chat about what had happened since she left. In her absence they’d put Bellamy on the council and she wondered exactly how he felt about that. If she had to guess he hadn’t been too happy, but if there was anyway the 48 were going to get a say he’d have to do it. So he must have swallowed down his pride and hatred for the people who had killed his mother to protect the people he’d fought for since arriving on Earth. 

 

The next thing Jasper says catches her attention, “These are Bellamy’s. He should be back soon and he’ll need some clean clothes no doubt. His tent is right over here.” He nods in the direction of a fairly decent sized tent. Of course. She glances down to see Jasper’s hand extended out to her, a pile of neatly folded fabric in them. Her hands are shaky when she takes them and she looks up at Jasper with wide eyes. Of course they all know she misses him, how could they not? Her and Bellamy, what they had was different. Not always good, not always bad, but necessary. Necessary for survival, for their people - necessary to each other. 

 

She’d realized that while she was away, that in leading the 100 with Bellamy he’d somehow become a part of her. She felt it every day she was gone, what his absence was doing to her. She welcomed it, deciding that hole it left felt like a pretty deserving punishment for what she’d done. There were time she could remember, while arguing with Lexa about something, where she’d look to her side where he always was and not find him at all. That hurt the worst, when someone you thought was always going to be there isn’t, and then realizing it was all her fault to begin with. 

 

Bellamy’s tent was surprisingly tidy, bed made and weapons neatly lined up at the edge of the tent. There was a basket that held a few pieces of neatly folded fabric at the other end and Clarke crossed over to it, laying the rest down gently. Turning back she eyed the bed, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. She sat carefully, bunching the blankets up in her hands until her fingers hurt. She never regretted leaving, she couldn’t, but she did regret leaving him behind.  But that was purely selfish reasons and she’d already decided not to be selfish anymore. Clarke presses her face into the blankets and breaths in his scent. It speaks of lake water and sweat, of pine and blood and something spicy beneath it all. It speaks of Bellamy and takes in another breath before standing.

 

She frowns, realizing she’s completely messed it up and bends down to start remaking it. She’s straightening out the blanket, pulling on the edges, when she knocks his pillow over and several sheets of paper fall out to the floor. She tries to shuffle them together, worried that he’ll definitely know she was here now, when she catches her name written out in sharp scrawl. 

 

Clarke falls back onto the bed, about seven or eight letters in her hand. Every single one of them addressed to her. They’re all dated too, in a strange sort of way, the earliest one starting off with Day 3 _. _

 

_ Dear Clarke, _

 

_ Your mother and Kane just put me on the council. She’s sad that you’re gone, and kind of mad too, but I guess I can’t blame her. I feel the same way. I could have helped, we could have gotten through this together. Like we’ve done everything else. _

 

She stops, her breath catching as she hears that one word whispered to her in his voice. She pushes it to the back and starts on the other one. Day 12.

 

_ Dear Clarke,  _

 

_ Running things is hard. It always had been, it just didn’t realize how hard it was without you. I guess you bear it so I don’t have to. _

 

She can feel the soft curve of his cheek beneath her lips and she has to move on before it’s too much. At the top of the next one it reads Day 24.

 

_ Dear Clarke, _

 

_ Octavia curses you a lot. I defend you a lot. Lincoln too. It’s getting kind of hard, she has some really good points. _

 

That’s all that one says, but she can see that a few of the words run with water and she tries to pretend it rained that day. 

 

Day 37

 

_ Dear Clarke, _

 

_ I was sent to Mount Weather today on a supply run. I saw the graves, I know what you did. I think it was a good idea, mad I didn’t think of it myself. I guess that’s why you made all the tough calls. Because you think too much. And I care too much. But you care too and you can’t push that down. I know that’s what you’re trying to do right now and I’m telling you not to. _

 

She tosses that one to the side. She thinks about how well he knows her, really how well they know each other. Because that’s what she was trying to do, push away her feelings so she could make rational decisions. She had thought sending Bellamy into Mount Weather was rational, and though it had worked in the long run, it took a lot of pushing to get her feelings for Bellamy to step aside to make it.

 

Day 49

 

_ Clarke, _

 

_ I don’t know why I’m writing you this letter. I don’t know where you are. There’s no way to send it, and I don’t think I want you to read any of these anyway. Actually I hope I don’t see you again. I told you -  _ I told you -  _ you didn’t have to do this on your own. You told me, way back when, that I wouldn’t be by myself. You told  _ them  _ you’d never leave them behind. You’re a liar Clarke, and a coward, just running away from your demons instead of facing them. Well here I am facing  _ our  _ demons and you’re nowhere to be found.  _

 

Her chest feels tight and her hands are trembling as they move on to the next one. Strangely, to day Day 51.

 

_ Dear Clarke, _

 

_ I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. I miss you. Please come home. _

 

That one gets stained with her own tears. She can hardly read the next one. The last one. Day 135.

 

_ Dear Clarke, _

 

_ It’s been a long time since I wrote, but I’ve still been counting the days. I just want you to know I get it. I understand why you left and I understand why I had to stay. Being on the council, they listen, they realize that we had the knowledge they didn’t. I did a lot of talking to Kane and he finally convinced Abby to stop looking at us like children and take us seriously. That’s why I haven’t written, because the council keeps me busy. I insisted they save a seat for you, if you ever decide to come back.  _

 

_ I miss you every day. I hope you do come back. When you do, just know that Octavia is still pretty mad at you. Probably because I was miserable for the first few months, and because she loves me and doesn’t want to see me hurt. And I don’t want to see you hurt, or have you seen me hurt. So come back on your own time Princess, I’ll still be here. Try to get better, because that’s what I’m doing. And when you come back, and we’re both in a better place, we can continue to try together. Because I know now - and I hope you do too - that we’ve always been better when we’re working together. And if you want, I’ll bear it so you don’t have to. _

 

_ Whether you like it or not - Yours,  _

_ Bellamy _

 

Clarke holds the letters to her chest, her breath caught in her throat and her heart thrumming too fast in her chest. Suddenly there’s too much surrounding her, all of it just Bellamy, and that hole she’s had is worse now than it ever was before. Because here she was, in his space surrounded by all things  _ him  _ and yet he wasn’t here. A sob, more violent than the last, rips through her nearly taking her down with it. She knows she probably shouldn’t have read these, that these were probably private to Bellamy and really none of her business even if they were addressed to her. 

 

There’s a rustle and then - “Clarke?” She looks up to see Bellamy staring down at her with an incredulous look plastered across his face. “Clarke.” Her name comes out as a desperate prayer and he’s stumbling forward, falling to his knees in front of her. “You came back.”

 

She can’t take her eyes away from his and she clutches the letters tighter. “Of course I came back.”

 

His eyes falls to what she’s holding in her hands and she can see them go blank as soon as he recognizes them. “My letters.” Bellamy clears his throat, looking away just a moment before they go back to Clarke. His tone is hesitant when he asks, “You read them?” She nods quietly, the smallest movement of her head. There’s a silent moment before Bellamy’s tongue darts out to wet his lips and he continues. “I was sure - I didn’t know if-” He takes a deep breath. “It helped. Writing to you even though I thought you would never read them. Like I could still talk to you and you still understood me. Clarke,” he was cautious when he reached out, like he could scare her off with any sudden moves, and took the letters from her and set them aside. Then his hands were around hers and they’re just as soft as he remembered.

 

Clarke’s breath catches and she can feel the heat rising to her cheeks and nearly looks away from him. But she can’t, it’s been six months since she had last seen him, really seen him. She saw his face every day in her head though, but it was nothing compared to seeing him live and in person. His hands were rough against hers, warm and comforting even if they were warrior hands. These hands had killed a young boy’s father, but they had also quieted his baby sister to keep her alive. These hands had covered hers when she made choice to take hundreds of lives to save forty-eight. Reflexively she gripped them tighter, her thumbs tracing over the back of his hand.  _ Of course I came back.  _

 

He starts again again and she can see his own blush coming up on his tan skin, “Clarke while you were gone I realized… I -”

 

She pulls her hands from his to cup his face and her thumb caresses his cheek and for a moment she’s cut off from his eyes as they flutter close for just a moment. “I know Bellamy.” She doesn’t have to hear it, she knows. She could see it on his face when he had come in, had read it in his letters to her. She could feel it in his touch and in the weight of his gaze. She felt in her own pulse, the way it rushed at his touch and drummed in her ears. “I know.” All she has to do is tilt her chin up slightly and her lips are on his. 

 

Bellamy pulls in a ragged gasp when Clarke kisses him and her fingers tangle in his hair. His arms go around her, like that hug he still thought about to this day, pulling her to him desperately. She nips at his bottom lip and he can’t help the low groan that escapes him. It’s more than he thought it would be, so much more. She tasted of fruit and crisp waters, of sunshine and rain. Clarke pulls at his hair and his lips disconnect from hers and he can’t help the sinking feeling he gets at the loss of contact. 

 

But she’s looking at him in a way that’s nearly as sweet and he stays quiet as she whispers, “Me too.” She surges forward and he’s swallowed by everything that is Clarke and the next thing that comes out of his mouth is what he would consider begging, but he always made an exception for his princess.

 

“Don’t ever leave me again.” His voice breaks on that last word.

 

Clarke feels her lips lift up into a watery smile and she buries her face in his neck so he won’t see her tears. “Never.” 


End file.
